Bunker turned, snarling like a wounded animal. With a leap he was upon Frank, and he attempted to crush Merriwell down with the fury of his assault. But he had struck a lad who would not be crushed so easily. Frank met his rush, grappled with him, gave him a wrestler’s trip and hurled the man over his hip. Bunker shook the cottage when he fell, but he was up again quickly. “I’ll fix you!” he grated. Frank laughed outright. “Come on,” was his invitation. “You don’t seem to be doing very well so far.” Then they met again, but this time Frank dodged and gave the man a body blow that brought a grunt from his lips. Bunker was a fighter, and he was not awkward in his movements, although he was astonished by the work of the lad he had expected to knock out so easily. He whirled again, and this time he struck so quickly that Merry was hit a glancing blow on the cheek. “That’s not so bad,” admitted Frank, cheerfully. “Come again.” Bunker accepted the invitation, but the blow was parried and returned with interest. Then there was some “in-fighting” that would have set a crowd of spectators wild had it been at a boxing match. Merry was rapped several times before he got in another good one, but he got it in at last. Panting, Bunker dropped to his knees. He did not go down, however, but made a forward plunge in rising, trying to come up under Frank’s guard. Merry leaped back, and so was not caught about the body and lifted, that being the trick Bunker had attempted. Browning’s heavy voice was heard urging the whole crowd to “come and see him.” Now and then he would grab a man and fling him bodily through the air. Thus it happened that he threw one of them against Frank, and Merriwell was knocked flat upon the floor. Bunker fancied he saw his opportunity, and he leaped up with the intention of planting both heels in Frank’s face. It was a wicked, almost murderous, attempt, but it did not succeed. Browning saw him, and, being within reach at that moment, thrust out a hand, caught him in mid air before he could drop on Frank, and gave him a fling. Browning’s wonderful strength saved Frank Merriwell from disfigurement for life, possibly from a fatal injury. Bunker was hurled across the room, and Merry leaped up. “Good trick, old man!” he exclaimed, appreciatingly. “Dead lucky for me that you did it.” Diamond and Hodge were doing their level best, and now there was a bellowing sound in the other room, and Hans Dunnerwust, armed with two clubs, one in each hand, came plunging in. “Oxcuse me!” he cried. “Berhaps you vant me to lick myseluf! Vale, I vos a vighter from Vighterville! Whoop! Shoost seen how I got der game indo! I pet der whole crowdt vill lick me pefore der vun is ofer!” Then he lay about him blindly with those clubs, being nearly as dangerous to his friends as to his foes. Browning caught Hans by the collar and a convenient part of his trousers, and flung him out into the other room, closing the door.